


An Awkward Introduction

by tardisswimmingpool



Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4449293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tardisswimmingpool/pseuds/tardisswimmingpool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A first-hand account of Greg's awkward first meeting with his boyfriend, Mycroft.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Awkward Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> I was just messing around with writing. This is the result of my boredom haha

Looking back on the first day you meet someone is always a little strange. People change, relationships evolve, and it's rather difficult to view someone the same way you did however long ago. 

Mycroft and I started out as complete strangers if it weren't for a very nosy detective that I've gotten myself involved with. The day we met I had been rushing from the station to Bakerstreet upon receiving an emergency call from a Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Mrs. Hudson, the landlady, led me inside and offered me a cup of tea which I declined. She told me she was not aware of any potential dangers upstairs. 

"How long has it been since you've been up there?" I had asked the woman.

She thought about it, her brain suffering from the effects of age on her memory, and eventually responded with a simple shrug.

"I'm afraid I don't know, dear. I'm the landlady, not his housekeeper. Perhaps an hour or so ago?" 

"Has anyone else come through here in that time?"

"I wouldn't know. I've been in my flat. If they did, Sherlock let them in himself. I didn't hear the bell ring."

"Did you hear any noises?"

"Not that I can think of. Why are you making such a fuss, I'm sure he's fine."

"He called saying he needed help."

"Oh, dear, well you better go up then." 

"Of course, knowing Sherlock, he might have called to report a missing comb," I rolled my eyes and made my way reluctantly up the stairs. 

I called for the detective, but heard no reply from inside. Luckily the door was unlocked, and, upon hearing no smartass remarks, I anxiously made my way inside to look around.

"Sherlock?" at first I took the silence as nobody being in the room, but a brown mess of hair showed over the back of sherlock's chair. The chair was faced towards the fireplace which was unusual, and the shade of brown did not resemble Sherlock's normal curly hairdo. 

"Excuse me?" 

The man looked over his shoulder at me, his expression reflecting confusion at my presence but also a bit of interest that lasted for mere seconds. 

Sherlock entered yawning and wearing an undone-raggedy-blue bathrobe with no pants. The mystery guest gave him a look of extreme distaste and ordered for the detective to cover himself.Sherlock paid the man no mind and sat down on the couch with a magazine titled "Crime-Drama Weekly"- a rubbish piece of literature if I say so myself. The cover of the magazine had Sherlock's face gleaming on it-something about the line of little tricks he likes to use to manipulate suspects.

"I see you've made the media again," the mystery man said," If I were you, I wouldn't be so eager for attention."

"Yes, but you're not the one with people knocking down your door for an interview. Might as well give them what they want and send them off." 

"I'm not one for popularity, Sherlock." 

"Of course not," Sherlock said and finally waved his hand at me to sit down in John's old chair.

"How did you...you didn't even look at me."

"I could hear you breathing. Best get a decongestant." 

"Who is this man?" 

Sherlock turned to look at his brother with an expression reading "can't we just pretend he's not here." 

"Gavin, this is..."

"My name's Greg," I said angrily, finally deciding that I had no real purpose to be here.

"Right. Uh, this is my brother, Mycroft." 

Fuck, he's not the only one. I wanted to run out of there right then for the whole scene was like a nightmare that I just wanted to wake up from. The man stood up; His posture was nearly perfect and he was dressed in a very expensive grey suit with a blue handkerchief peeking from the pocket on the right breast. He carried an umbrella although the skies were clear, and he greeted me with a very formal shake of the hand. 

"Detective Inspector Lestrade, is it not?" 

"Yes, but...Sherlock, I didn't know you had a brother."

"Believe me, I wish I didn't."

"How touching, brother mine," Mycroft responded. 

"Why am I here?" As interested as I was in the obscure, "secret", brother, I did have responsibilities back at Scotland Yard and was more focused on my reasoning for driving across town for this unusual meeting. 

"Oh, right. Um, Mycroft gave me a file that I thought you might be interested then. I was going to bring it down myself, but it was kinda far. It's just easier to have you come and retrieve it." 

"Of course, I wouldn't want you to waste any unnecessary time," I said through gritted teeth, "You seem preoccupied." 

Sherlock shrugged and reached into an open bag on the table that contained some sort of salty snack. He sniffed the product before testing it. Satisfied, he sat back on the couch and stretched himself out. 

"I swear it's like you're ten years old," Mycroft scolded.

"What are you going to do, call Mommy?" He yawned again, "Just give Lestrade the file."

Conveniently, the file was placed on a coffee table right in front of Sherlock's head, but he showed no intention of lifting himself up to grab it. His elder brother signed and snatched it without his brother even flinching from the noise. 

"I've been told this is what you've been looking for," Mycroft handed the file to me, bidding goodbye to Sherlock who was now peacefully faking sleep. 

"Good afternoon, Detective Inspector," he nodded his head to me, "I apologize for the inconvenience." 

"What was that about?" I flipped my head towards the lounging man-child. 

"Sibling rivalry."

"Is that why I've never heard of him before?"

"Perhaps."

"Well who is he?" 

"My brother holds a very important position in the British government and therefore has no business dropping by for checkups. He could've easily sent someone to deliver the file, but he would much rather do so himself simply to bother me." 

"How important? And how did he know who I was?"

Sherlock didn't answer.

~

Any further interrogation went unnoticed which lead to me abandoning the situation entirely. Mrs.Hudson met me at the bottom of the stairs.where I informed her of the false alarm. It wasn't a surprise to her and me either honestly. I waved my hand at her and made my way outside. 

The man with the umbrella was still present next to a slim black vehicle. His eyes were watching the door to 221b intently while he lit a cigarette. I approached him for his ride was parked right in front of my cop car.

"Care for one?" he offered me a smoke.

I declined for I was trying desperately to quick. Nicotine patches were my thing in those days, and I hoped to soon lay off of those too. Divorce takes a role on your willpower, so it was harder than I expected. 

"You need a ride?" the man asked me.

What? I turned to my car which had been vandalized. Someone had the nerve to spray paint "fuck off, bobby" on my car window and pierce my tires so they went flat. The culprit also left a half-eaten donut on the hood with the icing melting on the new paint. 

"Bastards..."

"Andrea can drop you off at the station," Mycroft said, "I'll arrange for someone to take care of it." 

I didn't want to ask such a thing of him. For one thing, he was a very important man. Secondly, he was also a Holmes. Put those two things together and who knows what might happen. But I didn't have any alternatives. 

"I'll take the ride, but I'll see to the vandalism myself, thank you." 

~

There wasn't much interaction between the two of us on the trip back to Scotland Yard. Mr. Holmes sat in the passenger seat with an associate of his at the wheel. I sat in the back awkwardly, awaiting the moment when I could step out of the car and regain some confidence. There was something about Sherlock's brother that was extremely unsettling. He was very proper, definitely suited for the queen's service, but he also maintained a menacing quality. I could tell he wasn't a man you wanted to mess with. 

"So, Detective Inspector," the man finally spoke.

"Greg, please."

"How long have you been in police work?"

"A long time."

"And how long have you known my brother?"

"Seven years?"

"I pity you." 

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Holmes, what happened between the two of you? Sherlock's never mentioned you."

"My brother and I have a very complicated relationship, and, if it's all the same, I do not wish to bore you with our...history," he looked over his shoulder to give me a forced smile. 

"Oh, yes, of course."

"But while on the subject, perhaps you could do me a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"I'm a busy man. I have a lot of people and responsibilities to deal with. I can't spare time to watch my baby brother 24/7. I'll make a deal with you. I'll get your car taken care of, and you keep an eye on Sherlock for me." 

"I do that enough already."

"Well then it shouldn't be a problem." 

"I suppose not."

"Sherlock tells me you are divorced." 

"I am. But why did he..."

The car pulled up at the station. 

~

Back in my office I reflected upon the circumstances of that afternoon. The name Mycroft Holmes kept replaying in my head like a broken audio tape. Who was he exactly and why did Sherlock tell him about me? 

I revealed the contents of the file on my desk. There was an array of photographs taken of a suspect from Turkey. It was a high-level affair we were dealing with, but I was more interested in a small piece of paper I found hiding beneath the evidence. Written on the paper in clean print was a line of numbers-it was a phone number. 

"Hello?" I had dialed the number and the sound of Mr. Holmes's voice came on the other end.

"Mr. Holmes?"

"Detective Inspector, I am surprised. I didn't think you would call."

"Why did you leave me this number?"

"Well, I was assuming you would use it in the situation that Sherlock needs my immediate attention, but I was also hoping you would consider coffee with me."

It was an odd request, but I wasn't going to refuse. It never occurred to me that he was asking me on a date, especially since he didn't seem like the kind of man that showed attraction to people. 

~  
We're not your typical couple. Most of our dates consisted of talk about Sherlock, and I'm still not sure what happened that caused a man like Mycroft Holmes to want to pursue a relationship with me. It was a surprise, and I wasn't sure I was ready for such a big transition after my divorce. But I guess love is strange like that. Sometimes you don't have to be ready. Sometimes it doesn't have to make sense. Sometimes it just comes to you.

Of course even the most unusual of first meetings couldn't compare to mine. And yet, I wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
